I don’t know what to think.

Every stare, every building, every hour evokes a thought of uncertainty and internal searching. Week One in stunningly beautiful Rwanda has felt like a eternity of pondering upon acceptance, justice, and difference. It feels impossible to understand my thoughts and bring about any closure. Here are various short stories which will serve as snapshots from my mind this past week.

“Think about fighting men with guns when you only have sticks. That’s my greatest inspiration.” Patience told me as we jogged home from town. The closest relationship I’ve made in Rwanda is with Patience, an astute 28-year old man who has become vice president of a local bank through diligent perseverance. We first met on my second day when I joined him to install solar lights for a village home. He and his family were in the DRC during the genocide, and safely moved back in October 1994. As he began to work hard and make a career for himself, he always kept President Kagame and his men as his role models because of how they bravely fought against such odds to reclaim Rwanda. Patience speaks of Rwanda’s future with such positivity, and the country’s upward trend is reflected in his own life.

“Why wouldn’t you move here when you’re a dentist?” Benjamin, Patience’s 18-year old brother, asked me as we walked across a field of banana trees. He reasoned with me, there’s so many dentists in America, but so few in Rwanda. Did you know that there’s a grand total of 24 dentists in all of Rwanda to serve its 11.6 million inhabitants? That’s insane. Countless people in the villages live their lives without ever seeing a dentist, even when their teeth are desperately rotting. He asked me this question with such a straightforwardness that it made me think…yeah why aren’t I?? It’s cool to be reminded of the usefulness and applicability of dentistry.

“Do you have parents?” was the first question my primary six (14-year old) students asked me. At first, I was like, uh duh I have a mother and father? Talking with Cathy about it later, I learned that the framework of marriage and family has never been strong in Rwanda, and is one of the most serious issues the government fights against. It is so common for Rwandan children to be carelessly produced and often abandoned. This is yet another area where I struggle to reconcile my differences.

Everyone plays football. I can go anytime into the field across the street from PREFER with a soccer ball, sorry I mean football, and within 5 minutes, a crowd of children will have joined me for a game. I’m like super out of shape, but the game is beautiful. It’s always super fun, but I want to talk about a time I felt very uncomfortable. To be transparent, there have been a lot of times I’ve felt uncomfortable…and times that made me think, am I racist? Anyways, back to this story, after a 45-minute game, I stopped to drink water, but then these kids grabbed my water bottle and drank the whole thing, then started grabbing at my watch and glasses. My “no, no, no…” had no effect. One boy even stormed off and muttered “America…” I felt really bad. My initial thoughts were like man, these kids are so intrusive. But then I started to think…aren’t I the intruder? They rarely see stuff like my glasses, watch, phone… and I come to Rwanda parading them and what do I expect? No matter how ugly that sounds, there is a definite socioeconomic difference. Is my presence hurting or helping them?? No answer yet… Should everyone just stick to their own geographic places and leave each other alone? I don’t think so, but the intermingling sure isn’t always pretty.

“Imani ni nzeza.” (this is a nice story after that last one) After an English lesson on Healthy and Unhealthy foods with my adult class, I asked them to sing me a song. As the room filled with the harmonious voices of 24 Rwandan women, I fondly recognized the tune of “God is so Good”. A warm feeling sprung from my heart as a natural connection formed between us and I chimed in. Despite the universal innocence of childhood, I think I connect the most with the adult class since I really feel like they have as much to teach me as I do for them. Our voices ascended to the heavens, free from the boundaries of language or culture.

“Muzungu” means white person, and I fall under that label here. Everyone I walk past points at me and calls out “Muzungu!” It sorta makes me feel special, but at the same time alienated. So it was the best feeling ever when my (now most favorite) student, Iranzi, looked at me and said “Ethan!” I think he even taught his classmates to also call me by name, which actually really touched me. The preschoolers are the most beautiful children I have ever seen, in appearance and demeanor.

The unimaginable joy of getting a new mud house. The inexplicable amazement of being able to see past 6pm with 3 new solar lights. This could be the typical story of how an American is astounded after seeing the drastic poverty that exists in Africa. I, like everyone else, want to be different, and think different thoughts about it. I guess the main lessons I choose to dwell on are: To remember the joy that comes from simplicity versus the complex stress that I seem to be always under. And that “rich” and “poor” are truly subjective.

July 4 is my birthday, America’s independence day, and most relevantly, Rwanda’s Liberation Day. The Day President Paul Kagame and his Rwandan Patriotic Forces (RPF) ended the genocide. In celebration, President Kagame paraded through our town today. Imagine this: every single person in the country loves and adores its leader, and runs to him in complete gratitude. That was what I saw and felt. Something I will never see in my own country. That was pretty amazing.

“Why am I here?” I asked Patience. I valued his perspective as a local Rwandan. He told me, “It is not Rwanda’s goal to be like a rich, developed country. It is Rwanda’s vision to be self-sustaining, to be independent from foreign aid. So remember that you’re not trying to turn them into you. You’re using your skills and education to empower them to find themselves. Know and trust that you are doing that good.”

I want to feel like I’m doing good. I want to feel like I’m changing the world.

Remember your insignificance.